


Song of the Forest

by shewhospeakswiththunder



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Children of Characters, F/M, Graphic Description, Human/Monster Romance, Mild Gore, fairytale AU, mentions of pregnancy (but only in the epilogue)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-07-19 17:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19978087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewhospeakswiththunder/pseuds/shewhospeakswiththunder
Summary: Once upon a time, a girl peered into a forest.And something looked back.





	1. Chapter 1

  


Weeding the garden at midday was back-breaking work, and Rey only had herself to blame for the thankless task. Perhaps it was the  _ other _ scullery maid’s fault that breakfast had to be entirely redone after clumsily dropping the tray right at the lord-of-the-manor’s feet, but it was Rey’s impatience and foul temper that Cook couldn’t abide in the kitchen.

With a ferocious pull on a particularly deep-rooted specimen, Rey channeled the irritation at her exile into a fierce tug-of-war in the carrot patch. Her life wasn’t fair, but this topped it all. She worked hard, performed as was expected of her, and  _ this _ was her reward: the hot sun beating down through her thin muslin dress, hands raw and dirty, and probably by now missing luncheon.

She planted her feet wide and adjusted her grasp on the grainy weed, giving one last hearty pull. The roots gave way, sending Rey flying back to hit her rump hard on the ground. With a strangled cry of frustration, she flung the weed in her hands to the dirt and picked herself up, dusting what she could from her long skirts.

The wide-brimmed straw hat on her head did nothing to cool her. She ripped apart the ribbon tying it underneath her chin and almost threw it to the ground as well, but she stayed her hand. Her temper was what got her into this mess in the first place.

Wiping the streaming sweat from her forehead, she took a deep breath, then stilled. The uncanny sensation of being watched sent prickles up her arms. Turning on her heel, she searched the open field behind her. 

No one. 

Except for the rustle of the leaves from the forest that lined the southern end of the lord’s property, all was quiet. Rey was the only soul outdoors in this heat.

An electric jolt shot through Rey as she considered the forest. The townspeople had always regarded the woods on the edge of the lord’s property with lighthearted superstition, tale-weavers at festivals spinning stories of a dangerous Spirit of the Wood mostly to frighten children seated around the bonfire. Even so, no one entered the forest without a damn good reason.

“Rey!”

Nearly jumping out of her skin, she whirled on Finn, calling to her from the back entrance of the manor.

“You’re going to miss luncheon!” he teased, cupping his hands around his mouth so his voice carried farther.

“I’ll be right there!” Rey called back, stepping over long lines of bright carrot greens.

Just before she entered the cool interior of the stone manor, she paused to glance once more at the trees waving in the distance.

She shook her head at her own foolishness and firmly closed the wooden door behind her. She had more important things to occupy her thoughts, and food currently held the highest priority.

A week passed before she felt the weight of unseen eyes settling on her once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge shoutout to Erulisse17 for Best Beta of the Year Award, for helping to make coherent the nonsense swirling around in my brain and in my rough drafts. Thank you 💕
> 
> As an aside, I don't like to post unfinished works, but I've written ahead and hope to post a new chapter about once a week. You can stay tuned via my [tumblr](https://shewhospeakswiththunder.tumblr.com) or my [twitter](https://twitter.com/shewhospeaks2).


	2. Chapter 2

A long day of scrubbing floors, polishing silverware, and beating the dust out of rugs in the cooler air of evening passed quickly, and when Rey woke up the following day, she had almost entirely forgotten about the incident in the carrot patch.

The morning had gone much to Rey’s liking at first. Whenever the opportunity arose to pick the late summer blackberries from the edge of the manor’s property, Rey always volunteered. The more superstitious staff were hesitant to go, as the bushes grew among the trees that lined the perimeter of the forest, but she never minded. Cook would get as much fruit as she asked for, and whatever was left on the branch was Rey’s to enjoy, a pleasure that far outweighed the risk of a few pricked fingers.

Hoping the get the work done before the already hot sun began to heat the air in earnest, Rey picked diligently, and was just weaving her hand carefully through a dense tangle of thorny branches when the hair on her arms stood on end. A shiver raced up her spine and she jerked back, the thorns slicing long gashes on her arm.

Through the haze of angry stinging, her body still rang with alarm, heart beating wildly. Biting back a cry of pain, she frantically searched the trees, expecting to see some sort of beast stalking her. There was nothing.

Snatching up the basket of berries, she had fled, holding her injured arm close to her chest.

The remainder of the day Rey was plagued with vacillations between distracted daydreams and anxious restlessness. When for the second time in as many hours she handed Cook sugar instead of the requested flour, Cook threatened to send her out to the carrot patch again if she couldn’t get her head on straight.

It was tradition for the household staff to gather around the kitchen hearth in the evening to chat amiably and catch up on gossip as the embers smoldered. Rey loved the daily ritual, pulling up a stool to knit or darn, with Finn sitting cross-legged on the floor at her feet. It fostered a sense of belonging in her, a peaceful respite at the end of a long day.

But there was no such peace that particular evening.

The deep scratches from that damned berry bush still smarted terribly, despite Cook’s herbal poultice smeared over her wounds and bound with scraps of boiled linen. The dressing prevented her from occupying antsy fingers with sewing or knitting, and the lighthearted chatter bouncing back and forth among her friends couldn’t hold her attention. Finn noticed her agitation, his back jostled by the constant repositioning on her stool.

“Are you all right?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

Rey could only shrug.

“Cook, tell us a story,” Rose, another scullery maid, suggested during a lull in the conversation.

Despite Cook’s diminutive stature, she spoke with weighty authority, whether she was barking out orders in the kitchen or spinning stories. It was the general consensus that she would have been a legendary professional tale-weaver in another lifetime. When she spoke, everyone listened.

Gauging the atmosphere of the room, Cook tapped a finger on her chin in thought. “The Tale of the Spirit of the Wood, maybe.”

That caught Rey’s attention. Rose clapped her hands happily, and Cook nodded as a murmur of approval rose from the group.

The low fire popped, but the audience only had ears for the story. It was familiar to all, and Rey knew it practically by heart, but she listened in rapture with the others nonetheless.

“Long ago,” Cook started, her voice taking on a mystical timbre, “this land knew different kings.”

It began with the forefathers, founders of the kingdom before their current one, and ended with a great fall—a lost prince, betrayal, a murdered king.

“With his dying breath, the great wizard cast his spell as the prince ran, condemning him to eternal punishment. He transformed the prince into an immortal beast, forever to haunt the forest and devour the hearts of trespassers. For indeed, the prince had no heart of his own.”

Rey mouthed the last words along with Cook, and the riveted silence in the room erupted in applause.

“So tragic!” Rose dabbed at a tear.

“He got what he deserved, there’s nothing tragic about that,” Finn opined as he stood up, stretching.

Rose stuck her tongue out at him teasingly and Finn returned the gesture. The rest of the household rose and made their way to their chambers, some laughing at the dramatic tale and others whispering under their breath.

As Rey readied herself for bed, she couldn’t pin down her own thoughts. It was just a silly story, meant for children. But if that were true, what was watching her from the woods?

She brushed her hair and braided it, laying down on her straw-stuffed ticking mattress, unable to settle in comfortably. Not wanting to wake Rose on the neighboring cot, Rey sighed quietly, rolled over, and did what she had done to lull herself to sleep ever since she was a small child—she sang her lullaby.

It was the one Rey fancied her mother had taught her, before disappearing.

The lullaby was one of two vague memories Rey treasured. They reminded her that, at some point, she had belonged to someone. Was loved by someone.

Soundlessly, Rey sang the song in her head.

_Crow is black, bone is white_

_Day is gone, now ‘tis night_

_Woods are dark and night is deep_

_Day is gone, now you must sleep_

_Forest sings at evening-rise_

_Listen not, close your eyes_

An eerie little tune, Rey remembered Cook saying after hearing her sing it.

The only other snippet of recollection she had was the comfort of a larger hand holding her little fingers—her father’s hand, she liked to believe. They were the only hazy ties she had to her unknowable past.

Some of the story Cook could fill in. The woman had found Rey as a toddler, maybe four years of age, prancing around the manor’s flower garden one morning, singing to the plants and speaking to them as if they could hear her, caressing the leaves and urging them to grow. Cook liked to tell Rey she had looked like a woodland nymph in miniature, her long, unkempt hair all atumble with dozens of flowers tucked into the locks. A crown of lacy white blossoms and crimson berries was perched on her little head, and a tiny cape of dark feathers as soft as eiderdown covered her shoulders. She had been alone.

Cook had taken her in, and was pleased to describe Rey as a capricious child, with a righteous temper and a fiery spirit, but filled with an incurable sadness. There were entire days when little Rey wouldn’t get out of bed, and no amount of consolation could stop her tears. Over and over she would say, “Something’s missing! Something’s missing!” to those who would try to comfort her, but what that something might have been was a mystery to everyone, including Rey herself.

Those periods of depression passed as she grew older, fading as she perhaps forgot that there was something missing to begin with. Now seventeen, Rey supposed it had been her parents, but other than her two treasured memories, there was nothing left of them to mourn.

Finally, Rey fell asleep, but she woke early, before the sun had fully risen, her decision firmly set in her mind.

The forest would hide its secrets no longer. She was going to find the watcher.


	3. Chapter 3

Pale dawn’s chill grey lingered over the open field as Rey walked, cold dew soaking her leather shoes and drenching the hem of her dress. She stilled when she reached the dark border of the forest, hugging her thin wool blanket tighter around her shoulders.

There was no way of knowing what might be lurking among the trees, but only one way to find out.

She strode in.

The field behind was already hidden from view even a couple steps in, and Rey’s world was now one of wet leaves and damp earth. Periwinkle blossoms unfurled in between sprawling ferns, and twisting vines trailed up thick-barked maples.

The beauty of the scene struck a deep chord in Rey’s heart.

It was calm and quiet, like a lovely dream and even though Rey couldn’t remember ever entering the wood before, felt strangely familiar.

She meandered along the edge of the forest line, making sure to keep a patch of open sky within sight. The first rays of sunlight began to brighten the sky, illuminating the wood around her with soft golden beams. Rey marveled at how everything changed under the sun’s touch, stooping down to admire how the light fell on a small patch of bluebells, catching the dew and turning it crystalline.

The hair on her arms and the back of her neck suddenly stood on end. The watcher was there.

Whipping around, Rey braced herself, balling her hands into fists. “I know you’re here!” 

Only silence met her words. She stepped forward, eyes searching. “Show yourself.”

“You shouldn’t have come.”

The rumbling voice sounded from everywhere and nowhere. Rey halted, a shiver crawling up her spine.

“Where are you?” she demanded, her voice sounding far braver than she felt as an icy sliver of fear stabbed through her.

“Leave this place,” the disembodied voice commanded, its tone rich, deep.

She ignored it. “Who are you?”

Once more there was silence, but her gaze had finally landed on a crouching figure, a shadow within shadow.

“Do you know me?” The darkness asked, curiosity lacing the question and throwing Rey off-guard.

Her heart thundered and almost beat itself out of her chest as she watched the figure rise… and keep rising, to well above her height, before it stepped out into the light.

The creature had the form and face of a man, but the similarity stopped there. Pale skin, contrasted by fathomless black eyes and a wild shock of ebony hair, was pocked by runs of raven feathers sprouting along the sides of thick arms, across broad shoulder blades, and up his back like a crest. Talonlike hands clenched and unclenched, and the mouth, parted slightly, revealed sharp teeth glistening with viscous spit. Dark energy radiated from him, the air growing heavier, making it hard to breathe.

Rey clapped her hand across her mouth to stifle a scream, tears running down her cheeks at the sight. 

In answer to his question, she somehow managed a nod.

At her reaction, disappointment flashed across his face, the distinctly human expression jarring.

“No, you don’t.”

He turned his broad back to her and began to walk away.

“You’re… you’re not going to eat my heart?” Rey blurted out.

Halting, he peered over his shoulder and growled, “Do you want to die?”

“N-no.”

“Then _go_.”

He made to leave once more, but Rey couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Why are you watching me?”

He waited a moment too long before answering, “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I’ve felt it.”

“I am the wood. I watch everything.”

Rey scowled at the cryptic response. “I’m not part of the wood.”

A flicker of amusement danced at the corner of his mouth. “No, you’re not.” Turning away, he threw back, “Go. And don’t come back.”

Rey blinked and he was gone.

She bolted. Scrambling over low-lying brush, she crashed headlong into the open field, startling a pair of grouses, their flustered escape frightening Rey as much as she had frightened them.

What was she going to tell the others? They would never believe her. Cook would tell Rey to stop making up lies, she was too old for that nonsense. She could imagine the look she’d receive from Finn, something between _Are you crazy?_ and _Is this a joke?_

The truth was she could hardly believe it herself. 

As she slowly regained her breath, Rey was certain of two things. First, she wouldn’t tell anyone what (or who) she had just encountered. For now, at least. And second... 

She was most certainly going back to the forest. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm IN LOVE with this moodboard my beta made for my story!!! Thank you, Erulisse17, you are a lovely human being and a phenomenal beta!!!

The manor was in a frenzy, as was always the case when the Lord of the manor announced he was expecting guests, but this time was different—the High Court was coming to call.

A letter had arrived by courier from the Lord of the manor’s boyhood friend, an Archduke who waxed nostalgic for the bucolic countryside and the locally-renowned red grape variety specific to their manor’s vineyard. The Lord liked to claim credit for the surprisingly dark, yet still boldly juicy wine the soil surrounding the manor was capable of producing, and made many good friends in high places because of it, but everyone living at the manor knew they were Cook’s grapes, tended to with care long before the Lord had been born.

The High Court, which had been informed of the wine’s excellent merits by the Archduke, intended to give the Lord’s vintage a try, earning the manor a visit from the most distinguished company the kingdom had to offer.

Every maid, gardener, and groom was suddenly overrun with tasks of preparation. Each piece of silver required polishing, every staircase a good sweeping and dusting, every rug and tapestry a solid beating outdoors to pound out the accumulated years of dust.

Cook was an unflappable woman under most circumstances, but the announcement of the type of company and the intended date of arrival were far too close for her liking, and the kitchens were whipped up into a state of especially frantic activity that bordered on madness.

Rey didn’t have the time or energy to even _consider_ a trip to the woods for several days. At the first opportunity available, she chose instead to visit the stables, eager to escape the kitchen for a few stolen moments. It was a welcome place of quiet, but far enough away as to get herself in trouble. If she went missing now, Cook would have her hide.

She hadn’t seen Finn in ages.

Finn was a stable boy with high hopes of someday assuming the title of head groomsman, and Rey thought he was perfectly capable of the job. He worked hard and had a good head on his shoulders, but for the time being, his duties were still that of a lowly stable hand—shoeing the horses, grooming them, and mucking out stalls.

Rey caught him in the middle of that last and most offensive of duties.

“Do you remember when we were little and used to pretend that we were lords and ladies of the High Court?” she asked, leaning against the large open doorway of the stable.

Pausing in his work, Finn turned to her with a smile, muck-rake still in hand, and bowed with a ridiculous flourish. “My lady, Princess Aureylia,” he teased, using the name she had elected for herself in those bygone days of childhood.

“Lord Finnley,” she responded airily, accompanied by a deep curtsy.

“Shouldn’t you be busy in the kitchen?” he said good-naturedly, turning back to work.

“I snuck out. I had to bring treats for my friends,” she explained, gesturing to the basket of carrots she had brought, picked fresh from the garden that morning and just now brushed free of dirt and cleaned. She walked up to the first horse stall and held out her hand to the coarse brown muzzle that met her.

“You know I don’t like carrots,” Finn called out.

“Good, because they’re not for you!” Turning to the horse, she murmured, “Hello, girl,” and offered her a carrot. With a happy whinny the treat was accepted, and Rey moved on down the line, with a carrot and a greeting for each occupant.

When her treats were gone and all the horses munching contentedly, Rey heaved a sigh and leaned against one of the thick wooden posts holding up the roof.

“I know that sound,” Finn chuckled, still heaving enormous mounds of stinking hay into the cart beside him. “What’s on your mind?”

“Don’t you get tired of it all?”

“Tired of mucking? Yes. Yes, I do.”

“No, I mean… well, of course, mucking is terrible. But, don’t you ever think there might be more to life than just… this, forever?”

He stilled and turned to face her. “I don’t know, Rey. You and I…we’re lucky to be here.”

Rey knew that, had always known that. The two of them were the same—no family, no name, no titles. They were worth nothing at all to the rest of the world, and to live and work on a wealthy manor such as theirs was a privilege and a blessing. It was more than two nobodies like them had a right to hope for.

“Are you happy?” Rey asked earnestly, and he gave her an odd look.

“I am. Rey, there’s something I’ve been meaning—” 

Not too far away, Cook’s voice rang out: “ _Girl, if you’ve gone and fed those carrots to the damn horses, you’ll be the one mucking tomorrow!_ ”

She grimaced and turned on her heel, anxious to distance herself from the scene of her crime.

“Rey, wait!”

“Bye!” she called behind her as she fled, hoping against hope Cook’s threat was an empty one.

***

The next hour Rey had to herself was in the evening two days later. Assigned to tidy up the larder as the last task of the day, she had been pleased to discover the chore had been accidentally double-booked. With a moment’s gleeful glance at the perpetually dutiful Rose, who was quietly humming while performing Rey’s chore for her, Rey dashed out the back door and rushed to the woods, looking behind her only once to check if anyone had seen her.

Fading daylight dappled the leaves overhead, a slight breeze rustling them in a way that reminded Rey of music. She breathed in deeply, savoring the smell of the wood, spicy and earthy.

He didn’t come right away, but Rey was content to explore in the meantime. Birds overhead whistled and chirped to each other, and she thought she could hear the faint trickle of a stream nearby. The cool shade and the calmness of the woods were a balm to Rey, so far removed from the flurry of activity back at the manor.

There was still plenty of time before the sun would set, Rey estimated, all too aware of the necessity of the light of day to pick her pathway home through the brush. He would come, some instinct whispered to her. She doubted he could stay away.

Soon after, telltale goosebumps crawled up her forearms, alerting her to his presence. Almost at once, she found him ensconced in the shadow of the trees.

She swallowed. “Hello.”

Those black eyes flicked up to hers from where he crouched on the ground and she shivered.

“I told you not to come back,” he rumbled.

“Why, though? Am I not safe here?” He didn’t answer immediately, so she pressed on. “If you aren’t going to devour my heart, like the story says you do, then why should I stay away?”

His brows narrowed in confusion at first, but she watched in fascination as some inner struggle played out on his surprisingly expressive features.

“No one comes into these woods. Why you? Why now?” he growled, perplexed and frustrated.

Curiously, Rey noted that the sharp fangs she remembered from their initial meeting were actually the blunt teeth of an ordinary person, and slightly crooked in an endearing way. It must have been a figment of her imagination, she reasoned— her nerves had been too stressed from fright to perceive him more clearly.

“I told you, I can feel you watching me.” Rey turned to a flowering wild rose bush, reaching out to feel the silky pink and white petals under her fingers. “You know, you’re not a very welcoming host to visitors,” she said coyly, eyeing him over her shoulder as casually as she could to gauge his reaction.

The absolute sarcasm in the exaggerated rolling of his eyes almost shocked a laugh out of her. It was so… _human_ , and Rey had to wonder—what was this creature?

“What’s your name?” she asked, turning to face him fully.

Frowning, he said, “I had one, once.” Silently mouthing syllables, he searched for the name he used to know. 

“Ren?” he finally guessed.

Rey stepped a little closer, a peculiar combination of sadness, pity, and intense curiosity churning inside her. “If you think that’s it.”

Troubled, he shook his head. “It’s not. But I think it’s close.”

“My name is Rey.” Another step.

A small, close-lipped smile softened his face as he looked up at her from where he still crouched on the forest floor. A warmth kindled in her heart at the sweetness of it.

Close to him now, Rey fought the instinct to reach out and touch him—if he was solid under her fingers, he had to be real. Instead, she allowed herself a moment of study, learning the long slope of his nose, his serious brow. On more intimate inspection of his pitch-black eyes, she saw tiny trails of white leeching in from the corners, and his talon-like appendages, so fearsome to behold at their first encounter, weren’t talons at all, but a normal pair of hands. The more she saw, the less monstrous he seemed.

But the sun had set at last, plunging them into the lavender light of full evening.

“I have to go,” she said quietly.

He nodded and stood, Rey’s neck craning backward to maintain contact with his lingering gaze. It pulled at her, from somewhere in her core, and her heart squeezed in her chest.

“Rey,” he said, his tone taking on a pleading note. “Please don’t come back.”

That stung.

“Only if you stop watching me,” she flung at him before marching back to the manor, not sparing him even a single glance backward.

The following days were far too busy for her to notice, but if Rey _had_ been paying attention, not even once would she have felt the now-familiar goosebumps spreading up her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will continue to update weekly! You can stay tuned via my [tumblr](https://shewhospeakswiththunder.tumblr.com) or my [twitter](https://twitter.com/shewhospeaks2) 😊💕


	5. Chapter 5

Life for Rey distilled down to two states of being over the following week: working and sleeping. From the minute she woke in the morning she was set to work, and sleep found her the moment her head hit the pillow at night.

Rey presumed that preparing the manor for their highly esteemed guests was the hardest she would ever have to work, but the five days comprising the visit were every bit as busy and more. Extravagant nightly banquets and the constant demand for food at all hours of the day, besides attending to the High Lords and Ladies hand and foot, left the manor staff exhausted and eagerly anticipating the day of their guests’ departure.

She had been present in the line up outside the manor to greet the visitors on their arrival, and had seen the enormous, gilded carriages, the fine thoroughbred horses, the beautiful embroidered traveling cloaks, the powdered faces untouched by the sun. Delicate hands reached out of the shadowed interior to the footmen, confident they would be there to assist the occupant to the ground. Rey amused herself by imagining it was she that sat in the carriage, but she would have immediately scrambled out of it without a footman’s assistance and made a scene of righting those voluminous skirts.

She was not a High Lady, and while somewhere deep in her chest there was a flare of pride for her own physical strength and capability, it was tempered by a small wistfulness that she never would be.

The first banquet had struck Rey with a heady sense of awe. The most sumptuous gowns, shining ribbons, lacy fans, ringing laughter—it was a colorful whirl around Rey as she served the guests, almost overwhelming in contrast to her practical, more humble way of life.

On her way to return a precariously balanced stack of dirty plates to the kitchen, where she would have to spend late hours of the night cleaning, she ran into Finn and Rose in the corridor, heads bent low in tense conversation.

Rey almost lost her grip on the small mountain of plates and silverware, but she paused on seeing her friends concerned faces.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

Both glanced her way, a little startled.

“Nothing,” Finn answered quickly. Rose’s gaze darted back and forth between him and Rey.

Suspicion at his avoidance warred with her need to hurry, and in the end the clamor from the kitchen and Cook’s raised voice tipped the scales. She scurried to the kitchens, but didn’t forget the encounter.

When the dishes were finally done, and Rose had joined Rey in their small quarters, Rey asked again.

“Is everything all right?”

“Oh! Yes. It’s just…I think all the extra work has been hard on Finn. Working ourselves into the ground for all these fancy _lords_ and _ladies_ has been frustrating,” she explained, enunciating the words with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

“Oh,” Rey said, a little confused.

“Well, some of them haven’t been very nice to Finn. Downright nasty, actually.” Rose shook her head and frowned at the floor. “All the pretty gowns and jewelry in the kingdom can’t hide an ugly heart. What’s the point of even having a heart if it’s _cold_ and… and _hard_ like theirs?”

Rose tossed herself in bed with a huff and blew out the candle.

Rey would have liked to think about what Rose had said more, but she was tired, and sleep claimed her before she could even think of the first words of her lullaby.

***

Finally, the day of their guests’ departure came, and to everyone’s intense relief, Cook mercifully granted the staff the evening and the following day to rest. Rey was bone-tired, but it didn’t stop her from heading straight to the forest as soon as she finished a hurried dinner. A little breathless after practically running across the open field, she impatiently called out after breaking through the border of trees.

“Ren!”

There was no verbal reply, but the weight of his gaze settled on her immediately, the goosebumps trailing up her arms answer enough. Her eyes roved around the small glade, searching.

“Where are you?” she prompted. At once she saw him, sulking in the shade, and she inwardly chuckled a bit at his brooding. “What’s wrong?”

“Why are you here?” he growled in response.

The stiff animosity in his tone surprised her, but she took a hesitant step toward him. “Because I want to be.”

“You said—you said if I stopped watching, you wouldn’t come back.” He vehemently gestured at her as if to say, _yet here you are_.

The memory of their last conversation dawned on her, and several replies sprang to her lips, but _why don’t you want me here_ and _I can do whatever I want_ sounded too whiny, too childish, so she swallowed them back.

She changed the subject instead. “I have questions.” His exasperation was obvious, but Rey charged ahead, extending a finger toward his arm to poke him. “Are you…real?” Before she could touch him, he shifted away, and she noticed the glossy black feathers that had run down his arms the last time they spoke were curiously absent. “What _are_ you? What do you _do_?”

Rey waited as he struggled with how to explain.

“I… listen. To the forest, to everything,” he finally answered.

“What does that mean?”

“I…” he cast around for words. “There’s energy, everywhere. I help keep the balance.”

Confusion must have been evident on her face, but he could only shrug in that off-puttingly _human_ way of his and shake his head, at a loss.

Suddenly, his eyes refocused on her with a new intensity, and her heart stuttered in response.

“I could show you.” His deep voice sent a shiver running through her, and she nodded.

“Place your hand here, on this tree. Close your eyes,” he instructed.

She obeyed.

“Open yourself up to the energy around you.”

Rey opened her eyes to shoot him a questioning look. “How?”

“I’ll help you,” he reassured her. “Close your eyes.”

Sighing, Rey did as he told her, but all she felt was the rough bark under her fingertips. Then she felt a cool pressure as his palm rested on top of her hand. She gasped at the contact, his touch exciting a flood of sensation—a twinge of apprehension, of surprise; an intense want for more, a preemptive longing at the thought that this moment would end too soon; a strange tug at her memory, a fuzzy familiarity—he jerked back, as if afraid he had hurt her.

“Wait,” she whispered, eyes still closed.

When he cautiously placed his hand back over hers, there was a sharp tingle, then suddenly, as she focused on the sound of his breathing behind her, the world opened, and every living thing was made known to her.

She heard the fluttering heartbeats of a mother rabbit and her tiny kits deep in their burrow, all eight of them. Felt the powerful downbeat of an eagle’s wings as it ascended into the dazzling evening sky. Saw the skittering of the ants at her feet, a beetle as it lumbered more clumsily among them. The slow pulse of life in the tree beating beneath her fingertips, the warmth of waning sunlight on the leaves, and the steady, ancient cycle of nourishment within them.

“I feel them,” she breathed. “I feel them all.”

Almost as if against his better judgement, Ren hesitantly asked, “And me?”

With a fresh realization of just how close he was to her, she redirected her attention to him and felt… the incredible _strength_ of the dark power inside him, brimming over and suffusing the air, suffusing into _her_. Deeper within, a curious emptiness, a hollow space.

“Yes,” she whispered.

The dullness of her own stunted senses slammed down like a ton of stones when he removed his hand.

“Do you always feel all of that?” she asked, eyes wide. Without his touch, she felt strangely blunted, almost blind in comparison.

“Not so strongly all the time, but yes.”

“It’s magic.”

“It’s the force of life. I can speak to it, and it obeys me.” With a small flourish of his hand, Rey watched in silent fascination as a tiny seed in the center of his palm sprouted before her eyes, blossoming into a delicate yellow rose before withering and crumbling to dust, all in the space of seconds.

“Magic,” she grinned, fascinated.

Ren rolled his eyes at her, shocking her once again with his curious ability to seem so like a regular person, and so decidedly _not_ human at the same time.

Unable to do much more than stare at him, speechless, she struggled to reconcile everything she had seen - his odd humanity in an inhuman frame, the vast world he had shown her for a brief moment, the knowledge that her reality was only a fraction of what truly existed. As her mind reeled, his glance flicked up to hers for a suspended moment.

_THUMP_.

Rey jumped, a breathy shriek escaping her at the sudden noise.

“What was that?” she demanded, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Nothing,” he answered far too quickly.

That answer was getting old, and her suspicion and anger flared instantly. “Well, it sounded like something to me!”

“It’s nothing to be afraid of,” he tried to placate her, yet refused to meet her eyes. “Go home, it’s getting late.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” Rey snapped at him, knowing what he said was true even as the words left her mouth. The light was almost completely gone from the sky, and the weight of her exhaustion settled around her like a heavy cloak. Turning to go, she halted at the sound of his voice.

“You can’t come back, Rey.” The deep rumble of his voice carried sadness in it, but Rey chose to ignore that and rounded on him, every ounce of her fiery obstinance fueling her.

“I’ll see you _tomorrow_ , Ren.” At his defeated nod, her stubborn ire melted a bit, and she added more softly, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she heard him murmur back.


	6. Chapter 6

Ren refused to even look at her the next morning.

Every attempt to engage in conversation was rebuffed, every step she took forward he took one back, and worry wormed its way into the pit of her stomach. Rey had taken a seat on a large gray rock, kicking her legs morosely, when she realized: he was still there. He ignored her, didn’t let her near him, but he hadn’t left. He wanted _her_ to want to leave, but couldn’t bring _himself_ to leave her.

It was curious, this strategy, but now that Rey had seen through it, she could counter with her own tactic. She would shock him into conversation.

“So, what part of the tale is true?” she started, thinking fast. “The enchantment? The murder? The kiss?”

The questioning glance he now threw her way was the first real reaction she had gotten out of him so far. It buoyed her hopes—she was going to reel him in whether he wanted it or not. If it took a few little white lies to hook him, so be it.

“You know, the Tale of the Spirit of the Wood. It has to be about you, but if you don’t eat trespassers’ hearts, then what parts are real?”

“I don’t know the story,” he said, suspicion furrowing his brow.

“Well, it starts with an angry prince. He thinks his family betrays him, so he murders his father to usurp the throne. And he gets cursed by his uncle, the great wizard, to lurk in the forest forever and devour the hearts of trespassers. ‘For indeed, the prince had no heart of his own,’” she quoted dramatically. “Unless… if a kiss were to be bestowed upon him, it would break the curse, and he would turn back into a prince!” The last bit was entirely fabricated, stolen from another of Cook’s favorite tales, but Rey had judged correctly. His attention was fully on her now, his eyes searching her.

Brown eyes, she noticed, a little startled. Normal, warm brown eyes, roving over her face. Her heart skipped a beat as his gaze landed lingeringly on her mouth.

“Kiss?” he intoned softly, his shoulders relaxing for the first time since she had come.

 _THUMP_.

Rey jolted, her heart rushing for a different reason now.

“There it is again! Ren, what’s making that noise?” She raised her voice a bit, the shock of fear igniting into anger.

“Just ignore it, it’s nothing,” he said quickly. Suddenly anxious to divert her attention, he continued, “I don’t think I was ever a prince, if that’s what your story says.” He flashed her a guarded smile, almost pleading with her to allow the matter of the strange noise to rest.

Disgruntled at his avoidance, it was Rey’s turn to remain taciturn, glaring daggers at him.

Muted by distance, she heard her name called from afar. “Rey! Rey, where are you?”

It was Finn. Eyes wide, she turned back to Ren. “I have to go.”

She hopped off the rock and ran, huffing when she finally reached the manor. As the rounded the eastern stone wall, she nearly bowled Finn over, but he caught her by the shoulders to steady them.

“Rey! Where have you been? Everyone’s been looking—”

“Berries!” she gasped, out of breath from her mad dash across the field. “Eating berries—by the forest!” She waved a hand in the forest’s general direction.

He gave her a strange look, but shook his head. “No one knew where you were. Rose said you were gone before she even woke up. We were worried. I was worried.”

“Sorry! I’m fine, just… eating blackberries!” she tried to gloss over with a too-bright smile.

“Well, there’s a special announcement that’s about to be made, and we wanted to make sure you were there to hear it.”

Rey nodded enthusiastically, eager to leave the awkward situation behind her. Following Finn inside to the kitchen, she saw that every other member of the staff was already present, in various states of annoyance and anticipation. She quietly maneuvered herself toward the back of the small crowd, hoping to draw as little attention as possible to herself, embarrassed that she had been the one to hold up the proceedings.

Finn moved away from her and stood in front of them all, and with curiosity and surprise Rey watched as he held out his hand. Rose emerged from the pack of people and took it, an incandescent smile lighting up her face.

He cleared his throat. “Thank you everyone for coming. Rose and I wanted to make an announcement of our engagement.”

The room erupted in happy congratulations, the younger girls immediately crowding Rose and shouting excitedly, the men sidling up to Finn and shaking his hand solemnly, some winking at him and others giving him a few brotherly claps on the back.

The bustle of bodies pushed Rey, still dumbfounded, toward the back of the room.

Finn had been her first friend at the manor, showing her how things were done and helping her to keep up with her chores. He was the first smiling, friendly face that somehow understood how little Rey had felt, how it was to be without a family, to be in the possession of nothing but oneself and what that meant.

There had been so many afternoons spent happily together, making each other laugh until their bellies ached, imitating Cook behind her back, playing silly pranks on the other staff and running away when they were found out.

She had no idea about him and Rose, so wrapped up in her own little world that she hadn’t even seen her best friend falling in love right in front of her. It was as though a huge rock was sitting on her chest, each breath harder to inhale.

Finn’s bright smile brought her back to herself, Rose still on his arm, still glowing with happiness. Rey quickly mirrored his grin.

“I’m so happy for you,” she said. While her words and sentiment were genuine, as she hugged them both tightly, she felt her heart break a little. Her world was changing around her, and she wasn’t keeping up with it. “When…?”

“Tomorrow evening!” Rose answered, bouncing on her toes. “Cook said she would take care of everything!”

That meant preparations. Cook loved weddings, it was well known, and she was going to throw them a lovely party, but that meant working long into the night and all the next day.

Rey plastered on an even bigger smile and politely excused herself from the room when another maid tore the sweetly smiling couple away from her. Outside the manor was blessedly far more quiet, and with her back to the cool stone of the building she slid down to the ground, folding her knees into her chest.

An ache had started to bloom there, arching up into her throat, burning and almost choking her. The first of her tears began to fall, and steadily increased to an unstoppable torrent that wracked through her whole body.

She couldn’t place a name to it at first, that deep, painful ache, but it was familiar, like an old blanket. Most of the time, she was good at keeping it at bay, distracting herself with people and activities… and most recently with curious spirits haunting forests. It had been locked away, hidden for so long now that she had almost forgotten it was there. But now, unstoppered, it seeped into every inch of her, and she recalled its name.

Loneliness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far! I'll continue updating about once a week, and you can stay tuned via my [tumblr](https://shewhospeakswiththunder.tumblr.com) or my [twitter](https://twitter.com/shewhospeaks2).


	7. Chapter 7

The town priest had been sent for, the overgrown trellis in the garden had been pruned, and Cook’s notoriously delicious white wedding cake had been baked and decorated. In an unprecedented fit of generosity, the Lord of the manor had gifted the household with several of the aged wine casks he had set aside, and had even granted the soon-to-be-newlyweds an entire week’s leave and the use of a carriage to spend a few days in town.

Rey had braided Rose’s lovely black hair into an intricate crown for the ceremony, and when she turned Rose around to admire her work, she couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. A luminous halo of joy clung to Rose and Rey wasn’t selfish enough to begrudge it of her.

The wedding was beautiful, and not a few tears slid down smiling faces when Finn and Rose kissed.

After Cook’s exemplary dinner and even more exemplary cake, the household had cheerily waved the couple off as their carriage rumbled down the dirt path. The festivities didn’t stop at their departure, either, red wine flowing abundantly from cups into stomachs warmed by jovial hearts.

Rey went to bed early.

Having a room to herself was odd. Only a cold silence occupied the air where Rose’s soft snoring should have been, and Rey found the emptiness pervading the room discomforting.

_Crow is black, bone is white…_

_Day is gone, now ‘tis night…_

Her body succumbed to sleep quickly, most likely aided by the cup of rich wine she’d had earlier. She dreamed of Ren.

_They are in the forest, under the cover of evening. Blood slowly drips down Ren’s chin as he gorges himself on a gray lump of flesh, slicked with red and glistening in his taloned hands. He looks up at her, those penetrating black eyes boring into hers hungrily. Rey isn’t afraid, hardly even perturbed, and looking down at her chest, is unsurprised to see the dark opening there, rimmed with torn skin. Before dropping heavily into deeper, dreamless sleep, she had a single, vivid thought._

Good. Now I don’t have a heart, either.

***

Even Cook was sluggish with wine sickness the following morning, and if Cook was out of commission, no work was expected of the rest of the staff. Rey took the opportunity to meander slowly to the forest, fidgety and restless, with half a mind to turn right around and go back to bed.

Clambering up onto her customary boulder, she sat, her soul feeling heavy inside her, kicking her legs distractedly until Ren came to her.

More accustomed to Rey’s typically eager initiation of conversation, he didn’t say anything at first.

“Rey?” He finally said, after a long stretch of quiet. “Is something wrong?”

She looked up at him for the first time. Perhaps it was because she had grown so comfortable with him, or perhaps it was the incredibly _human_ way his concern furrowed his brows, but he had never seemed less of a monster than in that moment.

“Could I become like you?” she blurted out suddenly.

It took him by surprise. “You… _could_. But I would never let that happen.”

Feeling argumentative, Rey snapped back, “ _Let_ it happen? Wouldn’t it be my choice?”

“What is it you would want out of this existence, Rey? It’s quiet and… cold. It’s a curse, not a blessing. You have good life out there with your people. I couldn’t let you throw that away.”

“You don’t understand. I've never belonged there! I'm just a little nobody who wandered into their garden one day! They didn't want me, no one did. I'm just… a nobody,” she sniffed, unwanted tears gathering in her eyes.

“No.” The authoritative firmness in his voice caused her to glance up. “Look.”

He thrust his hand out toward her, and Rey instinctively reached out to touch it—he wanted to show her something.

The connection wasn’t the same as before, not the all-encompassing clarity of the first time his skin touched hers. Instead, it was an opening of himself to her in the language of images. Visions of herself flashed across her mind, as he had seen her.

From afar, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and glaring out at the horizon with a fierce determination. Closer, her eyes closed in delight as she popped a sun-ripened blackberry in her mouth. Her fiery, adamant stance as she demanded of the forest, _“Who are you?”_ Teasing him over her shoulder, sunlight playing with the wisps of hair by her neck. A mischievous grin, a shy smile. Her eyes, full of wonder. The soothing green of her irises, dancing around an inner circle of molten golden brown.

Her small, gentle hand as it now rested in his.

 _Not nobody, not to me_ , his voice sounded inside her mind.

Snatching her hand from him, she recoiled into herself, shoulders beginning to shake with sobs.

“Ren, I—”

 _THUMP-THUMP_.

Inhaling sharply in shocked surprise, the perplexing sadness that had begun pooling in her chest at once ignited, and she slammed her fist against the rock.

“What _is_ that?!”

“It’s harmless, Rey.” He withdrew, shoulders hunching defensively.

“Then why won’t you tell me _what it is?”_

His only response was a sharp glare, and at once the air around Rey intangibly thickened and darkened as his powerful aura permeated the space between them. He was trying to scare her off the subject.

Letting loose an inarticulate, frustrated growl, Rey jumped down from her perch on the boulder and marched away, knowing her temper was getting the best of her. It wasn’t the first time, it would most certainly not be the last, and she didn’t want to admit it to herself, but Rey was almost grateful for something other than that inconsolable aching _hurt_ to occupy her thoughts.

Bursting out of the forest's edge and into the sun-drenched field, she paced the perimeter of the woods, tearing through the tall grass. Even as a small child, when one of her notorious outbursts of ill-humor filled her little body with its angry energy, she would flee the confines of the manor's stone walls, stomping around in the fields to work off its heat. 

But this time, the distance didn’t cool her off—her irritation only simmered hotter.

Distantly, but crystal clear, she heard it again.

 _THUMP-THUMP_.

With barely a moment’s thought, she dove back into the trees after the noise, uncaring if Ren might be watching.

Rey was going to find the source of that noise, and nothing was going to stop her.


	8. Chapter 8

Twigs snapped underfoot and branches snagged Rey’s clothes as she barreled through the brush and brake. The ominous thud sounded again, this time off to her right, and she changed course, both dread and the desperate need to _know_ warring inside her.

Stumbling out of a dense hedge, Rey froze, unexpectedly finding herself in a shadowy glade that would have been beautiful except for the eerie silence that pressed on her ears. Not even a bird’s chirp or a slight breeze disturbed the still air.

Exactly in the middle of the clearing stood the thickest tree she had ever seen, its mud-colored bark gnarled and knobbed with age, surrounded on all sides by open ground covered only by dense, spongy moss. At the base of the tree was a large slit in the bark, its contents obscured in darkness.

Curiosity won out over caution, and Rey crept forward, the moss under her feet soft and springy. The hollow was dimly lit with ambient light, and by what muted light there was, Rey could make out a strange glistening gray lump, a little bigger than her fist, resting on a flat river stone. Dread crescendoed to horror, but some masochistic instinct urged her to reach in toward it, her fingers trembling—

The gray lump _contracted_ —

 _THUMP-THUMP_.

A terrible roar echoed around the glade.

“ _What are you doing?!_ ”

Rey’s belly writhed in fear as she whirled around to face Ren.

“What is that?” she demanded shakily, pointing at the base of the tree.

“What did you do?” he fumed.

It was only then that she realized the true extent of his anger, and for once, she was truly frightened of him.

The large hands that had tenderly held her own now bore sharp talons, his gentle smile drawn back into a fanged snarl. Deep amber eyes that had regarded her with warmth were fully pitch-black, empty, and the pale skin of his torso and corded arms bristled with black feathers.

Arcane power poured out of him, clouding the air so thickly she had trouble breathing. The moss at Ren’s feet shriveled and browned, death spreading like a stain across the forest floor, creeping toward Rey’s feet with alarming speed.

She scrambled backward, her shoulders colliding with the tree trunk.

The darkness was inches from Rey’s toes when she cried out, “Ren, stop!” 

Her voice broke in desperation, and the stain halted its spread immediately. “Please!”

Receding slowly, fresh green moss replaced the dead growth, and Ren’s features softened into the kinder ones Rey had taken for granted. White leeched back into his eyes, the razor sharp talons retracting into the blunt fingertips of a human man, and even his feathers disappeared into his skin. It would have been a disturbing transformation if Rey hadn’t been so relieved it was taking place.

He was silent, avoiding her eyes, but his breathing was still labored, ribs and shoulders heaving with emotion.

“Ren,” she breathed, still shaking from residual fear. “What is that?”

“You already know what it is,” he threw at her crossly, still not meeting her gaze.

“Tell me anyway.” She squared her shoulders, unrelenting.

His jaw worked as though chewing through all possible scenarios, the silence stretching unbearably before he finally forced out, “My heart.”

With a lightning bolt of realization, suddenly the peculiar emptiness Rey had noticed inside him the other day made perfect sense. No heartbeat.

Swallowing hard, she moved on. “Then it’s true. You were human once.”

“A long time ago.”

“What else is true then? Which parts of the tale are _real?”_

The absolute necessity of understanding him swelled up in her like a tidal wave. Who was he?

“I don’t remember, Rey! All I have are pieces, fragments!”

“You have to remember some of it! Did you kill the king? Did you _murder_ _your_ _father?!”_

Ren looked helplessly at his hands, clenching them tight. “Yes.”

A sob escaped her, tears falling freely.

“But my uncle didn’t curse me,” he continued, speaking softly, the words weighted with emotion.

Slowly realizing what that might mean, Rey asked, “Then, how did this happen?”

He remained infuriatingly silent.

“Tell me! Was this done to you or did you choose it?” The question burned in her mind, and she felt that she could not bear a single minute more without an answer.

Without warning, he thundered toward her, forcing her back against the tree again, his tall, broad body stopping inches from her own. Rey couldn’t tell if it was terror or something else that pounded so hard inside her chest that it almost hurt.

“Why? What am I to you?” His voice was thick, underlaid with so much feeling that Rey’s breath caught in her throat as his eyes searched her, searing her to the core.

Chin trembling, she choked out, “I don’t know.”

He stepped back abruptly, something falling in his face. “There are wards set here to protect it. How did you get past them?” Now his tone was detached, flat, and somehow it was a thousand times worse than his scorching emotion.

“I just followed the noise here. I didn’t _do_ anything.”

 _“How_ then,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “I don’t understand, even I…”

 _THUMP-THUMP_.

He leered at the tree and growled menacingly, his eyes darkening for a brief moment.

“What happens if you put it back?” Rey pushed, forcing the words out hurriedly.

“I lose everything, all my power. And I can’t touch it. Someone else would have to.”

All the tumultuous thoughts in her mind stilled, and Rey felt her body go strangely numb.

“I… I need to go home.” Her speech felt distant, as though she didn’t inhabit her own body anymore, her legs wobbly and unresponsive as she began to walk past Ren.

“Don’t leave,” he said, grabbing her by the wrist.

At the skin-to-skin contact, a vast, aching emptiness crashed over her, threatening to drown her, she couldn’t _breathe_ —

An echo sounded from the black void—

 _“She needs to know_ …”

Ripping her wrist away, she gasped sharply with a blessed intake of air. Glancing up at Ren, she saw every ounce of the horrific, painful _nothingness_ she had just viscerally experienced written all over his face.

“I’ll come back,” she told him, more gentle now. “I just need some time.”

Without another word, without a single glance back, she forced herself to walk away.


	9. Chapter 9

The lack of Finn and Rose in Rey’s life left her untethered. Daily routine was all that held her together: rise early, bake the bread, milk the cow, serve the breakfast, wash the dishes…

With a mask of unconcern pasted on her face, Rey played the part of the dutiful and amiable servant. And passably, she thought, although a few discerning looks from Cook planted some doubt in her mind.

Her dreams continued to be strange, twisted things.

_Ren in her bedroom, standing behind her. He bends down to sniff her neck, taking in a long pull before plunging his taloned hand painlessly into her chest and pulling out her still-beating heart, a now-familiar lump of blood-streaked, glistening gray. Holding it out in front of her, as gently as if it were a baby bird in his hand, he whispers in her ear, “What a gift…”_

_Finn, Rose, and Rey stand over Ren’s enormous, motionless body on the stone floor of the kitchen manor. Rose dabs at the tear on her cheek, saying, “So tragic.” Finn responds solemnly, without looking up from the body, “He got what he deserved, there’s nothing tragic about that.” Rey looks down at her hands, which are covered in dark blood and black feathers…_

When the happy couple returned from their trip into town, Rey was not as pleased to see them as she thought she would be. Their presence brought a slight comfort, but she was still left alone to her own quarters at night, and now they had each other. They didn’t need her anymore.

Rey threw herself into work and often missed the nightly gatherings at the hearth. Several times Finn tried to catch her in the evening and ask her if she was all right, but each time Rey threw an over-bright smile at him and attributed her behavior to excess energy, assuring him that he shouldn’t worry.

From the look in Finn’s eyes, she could tell that despite her efforts, he was only growing more concerned.

Several weeks swept by, and nights began to fall quicker and colder. Autumn was well on its way, and despite the passage of time, Rey still felt stuck. Her thoughts were like crows, unable to resist the temptation of glittering baubles. Almost compulsively her thoughts swerved back to the forest, given any momentary lack of other physical distraction, and the more time Rey spent deliberately _not_ thinking about Ren, the more she realized that in order to move on, she needed his answer to that burning question: Did he choose to live immortal and heartless, or had he been cursed to this fate?

Finally, she realized she would have to confront him, and strode out across the field early in the evening.

As soon as she crossed the line of trees demarcating the wood’s edge, she felt the weight of Ren’s undivided attention, as heavy as the dark clouds that hung heavy in the sky above, and the prickle of the hair on her arms standing to attention.

She suspected that their last meeting had changed things between them, had replaced camaraderie with caution, warmth with wariness, and when he didn’t immediately appear to her, she knew that her instinct was right.

She called to him softly. “Ren?”

Just like their first encounters, he materialized some distance away, crouching beside a tree and looking up at her apprehensively, as still as stone. Taking a breath for courage, Rey stepped right up to him, so that she had to look down to meet his upturned eyes.

“Ask again,” he prompted, half-whispering, surprising her by speaking first.

“Did you choose this or was it done to you?” she supplied, equally as quiet. 

Ren nodded, and replied, “I’ll answer, but there’s something I need to ask you first.”

Her silence was a tacit agreement, but her rankling anxiety racketed up by several degrees, and Rey felt her palms begin to sweat and her mouth go dry.

Taking some time to study her face, he eventually asked, “Do you remember the song?”

“What song?” Rey croaked, her heart dropping. How could he possibly know about it? She had never spoken of it to him. 

Observing her closely still, he murmured, “You do.”

“How do you—”

“Sing it,” he interrupted, his voice still soft.

Rey’s heart clenched painfully.

“Go on,” he urged her, not unkindly.

She began, “ _Crow is black, bone is white_ —”

He joined in, his deep, rich voice rumbling underneath her tentative one. _"D_ _ay is gone, now ‘tis night. Woods are dark and night is deep_ —”

She couldn’t finish, so he did alone. _"Day is gone, now you must sleep.”_

“How?” was all she could vocalize around the burning ache in her throat.

“I taught it to you.”

_“What?"_

“I wove it into your memory when you were very small.”

Rey shook her head in shock, failing to comprehend. “But my mother—”

“—Abandoned you in this forest when you were a child. You know it. You’ve always known.”

“My—my father’s hand, holding mine—!”

His head tilted in confusion, and he reached out his hand, a silent request for her own. She obliged numbly, and when they touched, she felt him searching through her mind for the memory, sifting tenderly through her stunned distress to that cherished image of her hand safely encased in her father’s. He immediately let go.

“No,” he shook his head. “My hand.”

“I don’t understand!” Rey cried out, eyes filling up with hot tears.

“They left you here. I cared for you as long as I could, but… this was no place for a child to grow. You needed your own people.”

“So _you_ threw me away, too!” she spat at him bitterly.

“That’s not true.”

“You passed me off to strangers, just like them—!” She took several steps back, away from him.

“I couldn’t keep you here,” he replied, his own voice starting to rise in volume, but not in anger. “I had to let you go.”

This earned him only a hard glare, forcing him to explain.

“Even then, you were…waking it up.”

“Waking _what_ up?” she demanded icily.

“My heart,” he whispered. Swallowing hard, he said, “The first time I ever heard it was the night after I found you, when you fell asleep in my arms. You were so small, and... no one had ever needed me before, not like that. And it hurt, like it hurts now. It feels like I’m dying, but I _don’t die._ I’m being torn apart.” 

Rey clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a dry sob. 

“Look at me, Rey--I’m a monster,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “I’m no fit guardian for a child. I had to send you away, to have a normal life. But then… I saw you out there, in the field. You’re grown, and… and beautiful. And you came back.” His eyes roved hungrily over her neck, her face. It was too similar to the way he had looked at her in her dreams. “You started waking it again. Making it hurt again. And I don’t know what to do.”

Backing away a few more paces, Rey took a few shaky breaths. “Answer my question.”

“I chose this.”

Rey ran.


	10. Chapter 10

The autumn storms came, and with them an inconsolable desolation that weighed Rey down like a millstone. Cold rains slashed at the windows, the bleakness outside a dismal mirror of what she felt within. Rousing herself from her bed was almost impossible most mornings, and when the bitter freeze of winter settled on the manor, its frigid chill settled in her chest and limbs as well, and she didn’t bother to get up at all.

Cook came to her, helped her to eat fresh bread soaked in warm broth, and kept concerned visitors at bay.

Rey’s thoughts were slow, her arms and legs leaden, and while sometimes she heard voices mumbling outside her door, it was as if they were speaking a different language. Rey didn’t care to understand, anyway.

Only one conversation was loud enough to pierce through the fog of Rey’s consciousness, on a morning that shone with the crisp white light of new-fallen snow through the small window above Rey’s bed.

Finn’s voice, distraught: “You have to let me see her!”

“Leave her be, boy.”

“Cook, it’s been weeks since she’s left her room!”

“She’s sick in her soul. She’ll recover.”

“How do you know that? How can you be sure?”

“It is sometimes the way of things. She’ll be fine, she just needs time. Just leave her be.”

The remainder of the cold months passed in much the same way, with time behaving strangely, alternately slipping away like water through her fingers or unendurably sluggishly, like wading through dark, sticky molasses.

It was a bright morning, not long after spring had thawed the ice-rimmed windows, when Rey’s thoughts suddenly emerged with a new clarity. 

_I belong to me._

_Not to Ren, to Finn, to Cook, to milord, to anyone._

_I belong to_ me.

With that flash of truth, it was as though the bonds holding her down had fallen away. The cruel ties of the past that convinced her she wasn’t wanted, she wasn’t enough, she would always be alone, suddenly dissolved.

Slowly, she sat up in her bed, a little dizzy and weak, but somehow lighter and freer than she had ever been before.

There was still grief. She couldn’t deny that part of her that still mourned for the parents she never had, that bit of her soul that still yearning for a forgotten time. It was still a part of her, but smaller, less important now.

_I am enough._

***

Kneeling in the dirt, Rey hummed contentedly as she pulled a long-rooted carrot from the soil of the garden and laid it in the basket with the others. She would wash them and dry them, and Cook would coat them in oil and roast them with rosemary and thyme until they were tender for supper that night.

Rey smiled warmly at the thought, contentedness enfolding her like a soft blanket.

Swiping at the sweat gathering on her brow with the back of her wrist, she stood up and clapped her hands together to rid them of excess dirt. As she bent over to grab the basket, she felt the hair on the backs of her arms stand up on end. Straightening quickly, she shielded her eyes and scanned the forest.

It was the first time she had felt Ren’s gaze since last summer. She would go to him soon.

When she approached the wood a few days later, it was while the morning dew still clung to the grass in the field. With a measured stride, she neither hurried nor dallied—he would meet her, she was certain. There was no call to rush. Stopping at the hedge, she tugged her old wool blanket tighter around her shoulders against the early-spring chill, reminding her strongly of that first time she had dared to enter these haunted woods. Of how much had changed since then.

A blushing dogwood greeted her as she passed through the first trees, and she smiled. She had forgotten the beauty, the peace of the wood. The meandering creek was close by, and she wandered her way to it, stooping down to dip her fingertips in the brisk current.

The goosebumps were no surprise when they shot up her arms, and she calmly rose to meet him.

Misery was etched into every line of Ren’s body, seemingly only held together by a single thread of hope.

“Hello,” Rey said.

Wary as always, he answered with a strained, “Rey,” from a distance away.

“It’s good to see you. I’ve missed you,” Rey said genuinely.

Something in him broke. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“Show me.” She extended her hand to him. He hesitated, but she promised, “I won’t run.”

With a nervous swallow, he slowly reached out. Their fingertips touched, and the world around Rey melted away, replaced by a yawning void of excruciating _emptiness._ Rey allowed the hurt to envelop her, to rob her of breath, to sink into her soul. It pressed against her eyelids, wrung her from the inside out, and after it all, a single thought floated above the surface:

_I’m sorry._

Withdrawing his hand, the reality of the wood crashed back down on Rey, the soothing sounds of the forest sharply contrasting with the unfathomable aching hollowness inside the body of the creature opposite her.

“I know,” she said thickly, tears beginning to fall, although whether they were for him or for her, she couldn’t say. Perhaps both. 

Blinking through the blur they cast on her vision, she forced out, “You made me forget everything, didn’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation, but a verification of what she had already guessed.

“I thought it would help, to not remember.”

She nodded silently in simple acknowledgment. Whether his choice to wipe her memory of him and her parents was right or wrong was beside the point. The past couldn’t be changed—she could only accept it for what it was and move on.

Ren started, his voice ragged. “I don’t want you to leave again, but I can’t go on like this.” His eyes searched her in that familiar way, as if learning every inch of her, as if he could see into her very being. “How? How can I keep you?”

“You can’t keep me.” A sob escaped her, the desperation ringing so clearly in his words wounding her. “You need your heart, Ren.”

He grimaced and looked away, but when he met her gaze again there was a resolute set to his jaw. “There are wards protecting it... I can’t touch it. I can’t do this alone.”

“I’ll help you.” Despite the waiver in her voice there was an undercurrent of absolute determination.

Rey watched as Ren glanced at the tree with an expression that might have been fear and take one breath, two. A ripple of calm washed over his body and he swallowed, his shoulders lowering, as if a weight had suddenly rolled away, nodding solemnly. 

Picking up her skirt, Rey quietly navigated her way back to that silent, mossy glade, her feet sure of her path. It was ingrained in her memory, like her song, like the feeling of a bigger hand holding hers.

As she approached the great gnarled tree, the sun’s light broke over the horizon, and she kneeled down at the shadowy hollow at its base. It was all exactly the same as before, the smooth rock, the slivers of pale light dimly illuminating the small gray lump glistening wetly inside.

Softly, carefully, she reached in and picked up his heart, cradling it tenderly in her hands.

A new fire lit her from within as she turned around to face him, a fierce sense of _rightness_ _,_ of _purpose,_ of knowing that the two of them were exactly where they were supposed to be in this moment. Every moss-cushioned step that carried her closer to where he stood watching her on the edge of the clearing had the weighted feel of destiny in it. From the look of wonder and awe on Ren’s face, she knew he felt it, too.

Their eyes never wavered from one another as she stepped in close to him and stopped.

“How?” she asked gently.

“Here,” he said, placing his pale hand on his chest, a slight tremor in his fingers at its nearness.

She delicately held it up to his breastbone, and he laid his hand on the back of hers, helping her to guide it in. His flesh accepted his heart readily, surprising her as it sank beneath the skin with no resistance.

Rey’s hand lingered on his chest, and she felt the first determined thud, her heart responding in kind. With his palm embracing the back of her hand, their connection opened to the splintering, screaming pain of the old blood pushing through his limbs with each beat.

She was the first to feel the warmth rushing back into him.

But his fear pressed against her, too, his terror at the horrific agony of old flesh _burning_ with new life, at the gradually progressing blindness to the wild energy of the forest around him, at the stabbing guilt that this might be too much for Rey, that she might still run—

Then silence.

Ren trembled, breaths coming hard and fast, and underneath her hand, his heart pounding inside his chest. He opened his eyes to meet hers, and they were warm and brown.

Before she could prepare herself for it, Ren pulled her in to him tightly, holding her close, his arms wrapping around her. The shock wore off quickly, and Rey returned his embrace warmly, savoring the blissful moment as his breathing slowed.

Breaking his tight hold on her, Ren pulled away a bit and worked his mouth uncomfortably, then swallowed, frowning.

“I feel… full.”

Rey gave a shaky laugh through a fresh wave of tears and brought a shaking hand to her cheek to wipe them away. “I hope so.”

“I didn’t know I was so empty until I met you.”

Rey’s insides were in uproar, her chest pounding and a strange fluttering in her belly, as Ren reached out and tucked a strand of flyaway hair behind her ear, leaned down, and kissed her.

Softly. Gently. With love deep as tree roots, warm as the sun, full as the river.

Every long season, every cold morning, every lost evening had led them both to that spot on the edge of the clearing. Rey knew it with perfect clarity, and she was never more certain of anything in her entire life.

Ren had his heart again. And Rey had someone to give her own.


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic's tags have been updated to include the content of this chapter. Please read on with that in mind.

_Long ago, this land knew different kings._

_From eternity past, the Light and the Dark ruled all creation, ancient magics that held the cosmos in balance. The mothers and fathers that came before saw the earth beneath their feet was good, and built upon it, multiplying and spreading across the land, seeking knowledge of the Light._

_They feared and shunned the Dark, for they did not understand it. It retreated to the shadows of the Great Forest and stayed there, growing and waiting. As the Dark bided its time, tales turned to whispers, and soon the people’s memory faded._

_The ages turned, and a king came into power—carried by the hopes and dreams of the people who believed in him. King Han ruled kindly and well, guided by the wisdom of his wife, Queen Leia, beautiful and regal in nature. They were happy, and their kingdom in the Light was fruitful, but as the mantle of the kingdom wearied Han’s soul, the Shadow in the Wood grew stronger._

_In the fullness of time, in an era of peace, Queen Leia bore a son. Prince Ben was strong of heart and mind, quick to learn the skill of the blade and art of understanding when to use it. He was wise beyond his years and kind beyond his kindred, a blessing to the kingdom and the bright hope of all who lived there._

_The young prince had one desire above all others—to gain the favor of his parents, who loved him in truth but often not in action. And so, as such tales go, Prince Ben began to seek favor and purpose elsewhere, and the Shadow in the Great Forest watched him hungrily._

_The prince first went to his uncle, a powerful man of the Light. Luke the Sage taught his nephew willingly, eager to pass on his knowledge. But the more Prince Ben learned, the more the wizard felt the strength of the Shadow press in, and finally the wizard cast the prince out, vowing to teach him no longer. For Luke the Sage feared the Dark._

_Prince Ben despaired, denied the love of his parents, banished by his mentor. The Shadow saw and pressed closer._

_Soon, the Shadow’s whispers crept into his ears. The Prince didn’t listen at first, defended by his strong heart and keen mind. But his fear and hurt fed the darkness, and it grew within him, singing loud in the deepest hours of the night. It chanted poisonous, traitorous songs that seeped into his soul and twisted the goodness inside to see things as they were not, and promised him the power and knowledge his uncle had forbidden._

_In time, Prince Ben’s good heart was deceived. His wisdom turned to cunning, his kindness to cruelty, and as King Han and Queen Leia saw these changes within him, disquiet grew in their souls._

_With nothing but good intentions, for they loved their son truly, they summoned him to them, but the Shadow, so much stronger now, followed. Distrust corrupted honest concern, and calm words ignited into violence. The deep hurt inside Prince Ben shifted from sorrow to betrayal as the Shadow gripped his heart tighter, and at last the Dark burst out of him with terrible might. His hand strayed to his blade, and a will besides his own lifted his sword and killed King Han._

_The prince fled to the arms of the Shadow in the Great Forest, his shame marking him. What kind of son killed his father? What kind of prince murdered his king? What place was there for a man so tainted with blood and guilt? There was no home for him in the Light._

_In the quiet place where the Shadow had grown, the once-gentle prince fell to his knees and begged the shadow to take away the pain inside._

_It whispered back: It can be done. For a price._

_This is the way of the deeper, darker magics—they demand sacrifice._

_The pain was too much for the prince, and he agreed to pay anything to be free of his shame. Whatever the cost._

_And the shadow whispered: Good._

_That night a creature was born, a monster of power and force, of death and decay, of stagnation and stillness. And there was no more pain._

_The creature haunted the Great Forest, generations passing in cold tranquility. For what does time matter to a thing that cannot feel and cannot die?_

_But one day, a human stepped into the Great Forest, a bright-eyed child, strong of heart and keen of mind. In her, the creature saw an echo of the past, and he began to care for the girl. But soon, her laughter and light revealed the emptiness inside for the first time in a thousand years. It finally understood the price it had paid so long ago._

_It had paid with its own heart._

_The creature shielded itself from her, hideous in its own sight, and sent her away to be raised by others. But the creature never forgot, and watched her from afar._

_Time began to pass differently. Seasons sped and slowed erratically as the girl grew, suddenly stopping entirely when the child, who had since become a young woman, began to return the creature’s gaze._

_And it was afraid, for as the girl-child had grown in stature, so too had she grown in beauty and strength, and the emptiness inside the creature began to scream and ache._

_But the young woman had a curious mind, and even as it hid, she would not let the creature rest, resolved to know the true nature of what it was that studied her. She scoured the Great Forest, seeking answers for why the creature felt familiar to her, until she finally found its heart._

_Sensing the evil and pain surrounding it, the woman became frightened and ran. The emptiness inside the creature blossomed cruelly at her absence, filling it up until there was scarcely anything left._

_When the young woman had gathered up her courage, she returned to the creature, offering it a chance to be whole again, for even monsters long for hearts given freely._

_The creature knew that if its heart returned, the suffering of its past would have to be endured tenfold. But the maiden lent him courage, and even as the hurt and guilt and shame burned, her love and faith began to cleanse and soothe, transforming the creature into a human prince, with all his virtues and failings, once again._

_When the young woman saw all this, she bestowed a kiss to the new creature before her, a man who knew suffering, who cast away his pain, and then welcomed it back for the sake of love._

_With that kiss, the rift in the cosmos healed, at last the Light and the Dark shifted into balance, for the true power of the Light is to see the Dark and love it despite everything._

_And they lived happily ever after._

***

The fire in the stone hearth crackled warmly, gamely warding off the cool late autumn air that threatened to chill the captive audience before it.

“You told it differently this time, Cook,” Rose sniffed, wiping the wetness from her cheek, but still casting the diminutive story-weaver in the rocking chair across from her a sweet smile. Next to her, Finn grinned affectionately at the two small children at his feet, still wide-eyed from the epic tale, before gathering them up and ushering them off to bed.

“Better ending this time, eh?” Cook replied before shooting a mischievous wink at the tall, dark-haired man next to her, making him jump a bit.

He turned to the freckled brunette sharing the bench with him, whose fingers entangled his in a vice-like grip, and whose shoulders shook with silent sobs, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Before following her children out of the kitchen, Rose turned back to Cook and said, “I like that ending _much_ better than the old one.”

“Me, too,” Rey voiced, her tone wavering softly as she released the man’s fingers. Stooping down to collect their own little one, who had fallen asleep soundly on the thick woven carpet, he picked the child up and cradled him in his arms. He paused at the door and waited for Rey, but paused to meet Cook’s eye in silent gratitude.

When he finally entered their bedroom, he laid the child down on his own small straw mattress, waking him enough to mumble—

“Papa, sing the song?”

“Of course, but then it’s time to sleep.”

He knelt down next to the boy and began to sing softly:

_Crow is black, bone is white_

_Day is gone, now ‘tis night_

_Woods are dark and night is deep_

_Day is gone, now you must sleep_

_Little bird, growing seed_

_You have everything you need_

_Light of stars and call of dove_

_You are home, you are loved_

When he finished, the boy had already drifted back asleep, and he joined his wife in their own bed. Laying a palm on her growing belly, he pulled her to him tight, his love for her filling him up so much that he ached with it.

He was home and he was loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who went on this adventure with me! Your comments and kudos made my day every time. 
> 
> Thank you also, once again, to the fabulous and wonderful and lovely Erulisse17 for betaing this piece, and for her wise suggestions, her insight, and her cheerleading. 
> 
> I thought that I would leave you with a few headcanons of mine that didn’t quite warrant inclusion in the epilogue:  
> 1\. Ren is extremely awkward when reintroduced to life in the real world. It is downright funny, and Rey has many good belly laughs over it.  
> 2\. Unbeknownst to anyone, Rey accidentally put Ren’s heart in backwards. It functions perfectly fine with no repercussions to his health, but I as the author and creator of this story/universe know it, and I find it amusing.  
> 3\. No one but Cook ever finds out that Ren was the Spirit of the Wood. Maybe some of you guessed it, but Cook is Maz Kanata, who sees the inner workings of people with uncanny and oftentimes frightening accuracy. 
> 
> Thanks again to all! Please come visit me on [tumblr](https://shewhospeakswiththunder.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/shewhospeaks2)\-- I always post updates of my fics in both places. There’s always a new one I’m working on 😘


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